Death at Blenheim Palace by Robin Paige

Author:Robin Paige [Paige, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: Robin Paige

CHAPTER NINETEEN

We hold several threads in our hands, and the odds are that one or other of them guides us to the truth. We may waste time in following the wrong one, but sooner or later we must come upon the right.

The Hound of the Baskervilles Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

The boat house, which Kate had noticed on one of her previous rambles, stood at the edge of the lake, partly concealed by a screen of shrubbery. It was a utilitarian wooden building, rather ramshackle, constructed on pilings sunk into the lake bed. There was a crudely painted sign on the door—no admittance—and a padlock, but the hasp was unshackled and the door hung open. Ignoring the sign, Kate cautiously pushed the door wide and went through.

Inside the boat house, the air smelled of weeds and rotting wood, and the silvery light danced across the surface of the water. Off to the left, in the shadows, Kate saw a pile of fishing gear, a heap of netting, and some fishing poles. To her right, there was a stack of wooden crates and baskets. A dock extended some six or eight feet into the water in front of her. A green-painted rowboat was tied to the dock on one side, with a pair of oars in the bottom. A yellow-painted rowboat was tied on the other.

Kate hesitated for a moment, as her eyes became accustomed to the shadowy gloom and the dazzling reflections. Then she stepped forward onto the dock, to a point where she could see down into the rowboat.

Look! Beryl exclaimed, with an excited nudge. What’s that in the bottom of the boat? It looks like—

Kate got down on her knees, bent over the boat, and picked up a golden evening slipper, somewhat damp from lying in a puddle.

It is! Beryl cried. It’s Gladys’s shoe!

Kate straightened up, still on her knees. It was indeed Gladys’s shoe—at least, it was the same color as the dress she had worn the night before. So Gladys really had gone across the lake in the rowboat.

There was a moment’s silence. But did she go by herself? Beryl asked, in a significant tone.

Kate frowned. Then, with no hesitation at all, she gathered her skirts, clambered down into the rocking boat, and began a thorough search, from prow to stern. She had just picked up several bits of litter when a dark shape loomed over her and a rough male voice demanded, “Here, now, Miss! Wot d’ye think yer doin’?”

Kate’s head snapped up. The man was small and wizened, with a gray beard and a thick shock of gray hair, as shaggy as a terrier. He was dressed in worn corduroy trousers, a jacket made of sacking, a brown leather hat, and workmen’s leather boots.

“I...I was just looking for something,” Kate stammered, straightening hastily and thrusting her left hand into her pocket. The boat rocked wildly, and the man leaned over and grabbed her right arm.

“Hey, now, Miss!” he cried. “Steady! Watch wot yer doin’ there, or ye’ll find yerself in the water!”

Kate recovered her balance.

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